


as the clocks chimed

by starsandsecrets



Series: a few wild souls [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Families of Choice, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Minor Allura/Shiro (Voltron), Minor Keith/Lance (Voltron), New Year's Eve, No Dialogue, gets a bit angsty, just Keith like literally, keiths dad died, probs ooc sorry about that, through keiths life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 12:46:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13236042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandsecrets/pseuds/starsandsecrets
Summary: Keith was seven when his father died.From then on he felt alone.A collection of New Years Eves from Keith’s eyes.





	as the clocks chimed

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to get this up for New Year’s Eve but I wanted to make some last minute changes to it. It started of as a drabble but then developed into a full on oneshot! I would like it to be longer but what can ya dooo? Sorry if it’s out of character, it probably is as this is the first voltron fanfic I’ve wrote but I kind of like it. ENJOY!!

**Seven**

Keith was seven when he realised his father wasn’t coming back. His mother was far gone, she had disappeared into the night before Keith could even remember her. His father had told him that his mother was like a star. She had burned too bright too fast and now there was an empty place where she was meant to be. His father had been there though. Wiping away his tears and holding him like he’d never let go, but it didn’t last.

He saw his father smiling less, a can of...something by his side becoming almost always present. He had heard the social worker talking about it. He wasn’t meant to hear, she had just told Keith that his father was going away for a while but when he stealthily left the room he’d been instructed to stay in he’d heard it.

“Going _that_ fast with so much alcohol in his system? It was a recipe for disaster.”

Dead.

At first he spent four months with a temporary family. The mother was kind and the children had hair like gold and eyes that shone bright and Keith wanted to be a part but he wasn’t the same as them. He was all dark and night and it soon became apparent he wouldn’t fit in.

When he realised that he was too different for them to love he closed himself away, locking up all the hope (because what was the point in hope) and leaving the bitterness as a hard shell.

Reflecting back, Keith thinks they _tried_ to love him but maybe he was just different. Not a cookie cutter, sunlight child.

He spent his first New Year’s Eve without his father alone in his room. The air seemed to buzz with happy chatter that floated up the stairs like a cold breeze. He heard the clink of glasses and the laughing of children. The fireworks that caused a dim glow through his curtains sent a pang through his chest every time he heard them go off.

He was a child back then. A little boy that was alone.

When the clocks all chimed and the cheering commenced he hid his face in his hands. Digging his palms into his eyes because he didn’t want to cry.

He was alone.

 

**Twelve**

He was passed around too many foster homes by the time he was twelve, homes that were too busy, homes that were too poor, homes that didn’t care.

Keith felt like a parcel, the little bits of light he had left wrapped in thick paper made of hate and hostility.

This home was the worst.

It’s where he learned to fight, to use his fists to punch his way out. He learned the tricks that were needed to stay alive. He was slapped and smacked and kicked but all it ever did was make him fight back harder. Discipline didn’t work on Keith, he wouldn’t let anyone tame him like a domesticated dog.

Even when his ribs were bruised and he couldn’t breathe. The nurses would ask what happened and faceless man with a ghost of red on his knuckles would reply with a excuse that Keith wasn’t sure the hospital believed, but what could _they_ do?

He spent New Year’s Eve alone in a dark room with a lock on the outside of the door. Blood dripping from his nose and bruised knuckles. Keith curled up against a wall, legs up to his chest because it was so fucking cold.

He wasn’t sure if the loud banging sounds were fireworks or his head pounding from well aimed punches. His hands shook as he wiped the blood from his face and rubbed it off on to his jeans. He leant his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

He didn’t feel like a child anymore. But he still felt just as scared, even if he didn’t show it. _Fear was weakness_. He followed that rule like it was made from holy words.

Keith took in a deep breath as the clocks chimed, as he tried not to flinch at the sound of a smashing bottle and a yell that came from somewhere in the house. His stomach rumbled for food that it hadn’t seen for days and he exhaled. He allowed a sliver of hope to enter his thoughts.

_Maybe this year it’ll be better._

He felt so alone.

 

**Sixteen**

Keith ran when he was sixteen. He was running from everything.

From a home and a school and a place that wasn’t okay with how he had kissed one of the football players in the gym after school had finished. How the boy had kissed him back. But _approved_ of the way the boy’s friends beat Keith after they had found out, calling him names that he carried with him with every bruise.

The mother had cried when she heard and the father went red with anger. Keith knew the signs and had escaped before another fist could cause him more physical pain

Keith was running from himself.

He spent New Year’s Eve in an alley between two shops where he was sleeping. He was cold and hungry and he ached from kicks and punches that he wasn’t sure he deserved.

He wasn’t technically on his own, there was a young girl and a baby curled up together in the darkest corner of the alley. The baby was cooing softly and the girl was holding it close to her chest. Her arms pathetically shielding it. Keith wanted to be kind and give them something, anything but he didn’t have anything to give. He was empty inside and out.

He had scars on his arms that weren’t from anyone else but himself and the anger and sadness inside of him.

He had been laughed at and beat and ridiculed his whole life to the point where he wasn’t sure if he wanted this anymore, this _pathetic_ existence.

When the clocks chimed he stood up shakily and walked over to the young girl. She looked up warily as Keith handed her a sandwich he’d stolen from a gas station in the next town. It wasn’t much, but the look she gave Keith after she had processed it was enough.

As it turned midnight Keith felt a warm feeling rush through him. It spread from his chest to his toes and to his fingertips. He wasn’t sure what it was, it felt familiar but at the same time like a stranger.

He wasn’t a child anymore. He had been through far too much for that.

But maybe he wasn’t alone.

 

**Twenty**

Keith was twenty when he fell in love with Lance. It was slow then all at once, like when you can feel the storm coming but are never prepared for when the lightning flashes and the thunder rumbles. He didn’t know what to do when he did. He felt wrong but right, a human oxymoron.

He wasn’t completely healed but he was better, and Lance or anyone else sure as hell didn’t save him. They made it easier but Keith did that all himself and everyday was better than the last. He was safe. No one there was going to hurt him. Not Hunk, a literal human teddy bear, or Pidge, the smartest person he’d ever met. Not Shiro, who’d taken him in off the street, giving him food and warmth and a family.

Then there was Lance.

All he knew was that he didn’t have to run anymore.

Keith spent New Year’s Eve in Shiro’s apartment. The Christmas tree still up, with it’s little light twinkling, the fireplace burning in the corner of the room. Shiro and his wife, Allura sitting on one of the worn armchairs, his hand on her swollen stomach. Pidge nattering aimlessly to Hunk while they tapped away at their laptop. Keith smiled.

Someone tapped his shoulder and he turned. Lance. His brown hair was messy and his eyes bright. Keith could guess he looked the same. They had brought the alcohol out long before midnight was in sight. Lance gestured towards the clock and Keith looked.

_11:59_

_Ten_

_Nine_

_Eight_

_Seven_

_Six_

_Five_

_Four_

_Three_

_Two_

_One_

The room erupted with laughter and noise. Allura pecked Shiro on the cheek and Pidge spilled her drink all over Hunk and all they could do was laugh and...

Lance kissed Keith.

In that moment everything was light. They were floating, though that may have just been the giddiness from the drinks, but that didn’t matter. It was innocent, like a first kiss. It was not asking for anything else. Just this one moment, where the world stopped moving and everything was whole.

They broke apart and giggled. It grew into a laugh and then they were leaning against each other, clutching their stomachs as the happiness left their mouths in the form of laughter.

He wasn’t a child, yet he felt so young in this moment. The fire framing Lance’s face golden and the booming of fireworks outside in sync with his heart.

He knew for the first time in a long time, for definite, he wasn’t alone.

 

And many New Year’s Eves later this would repeat itself, except next time he would have a ring on his finger that would glint in the light as he grabbed Lance’s cheeks.

And a few next times later he would hold a little girl with his eyes, close to his chest, Lance’s hand gripping his tightly, as the clock chimed twelve.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment if you liked it and if anyone has any constructive criticism I would love to hear it.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this little New Years Eve one shot!


End file.
